


Crest

by wildwordwomyn



Category: In God's Hands (1998)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Non-Graphic Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Surfing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey wants what Shane has so Shane gives as much of it as he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crest

**Author's Note:**

> Still don't know anything about surfing or the ocean but here ya go.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that?” Shane waves in indication. Of what, he doesn't know. He's yet to name exactly how it is that the man looks at him. He just knows that whatever Mickey sees seems to confuse, frustrate and somehow intrigue him at the same time.

And it's an innocent question, Shane thinks, or at least that's how he means it, but Mickey doesn't answer. They're sitting angled toward each other so he can see the older man's weathered face. Only Mickey keeps hiding his expression. He's either facing away from him or, when he does look directly at him, wears a poker face. Shane can't read him at all. Of course, it takes him by complete surprise when Mickey suddenly leans over and kisses him. The kiss is harsh with Mickey pressing closer, hungry for more. His heavier, muscular body bears down on Shane's until he's laying on the cold sand with Mickey on top of him. He wonders why he's not putting a stop to things. He should. But Mickey's kissing him like he needs something only Shane can give him, something wild and alive inside that Mickey's mouth and hands are struggling to reach.

Shane groans into his mouth as Mickey unbuttons his jeans with one hand and slides the other under his sweater. The chilly air tonight wavers at around 60 degrees, raising goosebumps over Shane's exposed skin. Still he doesn't stop. Mickey feels good and he wants to enjoy this moment while he can. Who knows if it'll ever happen again. Mickey's just drunk enough to allow it, letting Shane slip his tongue into his mouth. They both groan this time. In between kisses and licks Mickey whispers Shane's name repeatedly like a prayer, his voice soft, respectful. Reverent.

Shane arches his back, leaving his neck open. Mickey takes advantage, licking a long, wet stripe upward, before sucking his earlobe into his mouth. Shane hisses, his skin tingling when Mickey sucks on the thin, sensitive flesh right below his ear. Shane's eyelids fall shut as he gets lost in the most erotic sensation he's ever felt. He's never done this before with another guy. To make matters worse, Mickey isn't just any guy. He's a brother to Shane in a way his own brother could never be. Kindred. But maybe that's why he can't say no. Mickey is here, right here, aching and harder than anyone he's ever known but real. Shane shoves a desperate hand down his loose cotton pants, grabbing at the root of him. He runs his thumb over the slit, sighing in satisfaction when Mickey trembles. He works his hand up and down quickly, roughly, wishing he could see what he was doing but settling for the happy grunts ghosting over his ear. When he hears Mickey getting louder and he can hold his heartbeat in his hand he adds a slight twist to each upstroke, feeling each wave as it swells through his friend. The other man's climax causes his own. He can't help shuddering, calling out Mickey's name. After a few minutes pass he comes back to himself and wipes his hand on the sand. He lays Mickey's head on his chest, smiling freely as he looks up at the stars.

“Should I even ask what that was about?” Mickey wonders, tickling his chest with his breath. He lifts his head to gaze into Shane's eyes. Shane purposely doesn't turn away.

“Does it matter?” What they have has no definition. The fact that they have it at all is enough.

Once again Mickey doesn't answer his question. Instead he rolls over and pulls himself back together, his movements sensual, languid. Shane's never seen him so relaxed. He thinks maybe Mickey finally found what he was looking for. His friend stands, brushing off the sand. He glances his way, grinning when he notices Shane hasn't moved.

“Sleeping out here again?” He shakes his head fondly. Shane keeps smiling, watching him turn to walk away. “Sweet dreams, Kid.” Mickey's hand raises in simple farewell.

Shane remembers that hand on him minutes earlier, remembers all of Mickey on him, and sighs in contentment. He laces his fingers under his head, closing his eyes. When he sleeps he dreams of the ocean. Mickey and his other friends and family are invisible on the shore. But out there on the water he's alone, riding that crest while the wind rips deep into the core of him. Out there where it all becomes one, he's free.


End file.
